


joke's on you (we both win)

by CoraClavia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Mosaic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: Kathryn Janeway is stubborn.(Written as a companion to the opening scene of the novel Mosaic, but can be read independently of the book.)
Relationships: Chakotay & Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 16
Kudos: 92





	joke's on you (we both win)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mylittleredgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittleredgirl/gifts).



> Written to pair with the opening scene of the novel Mosaic; this is early season 2.
> 
> For mylittleredgirl, who has dragged me (not unwillingly) back into the ship I shipped before I actually knew what shipping was.

Nothing really compares to the beauty of an M-class planet with a balmy climate and lush foliage.

Chakotay’s group of ensigns is perhaps enjoying the sunshine and fresh air as much as they are looking for edible plants, but he can’t begrudge them. They’re enjoying themselves. It’s good for them, the chance to stretch their legs.

As the young crew members laugh and chatter, basking in the warm sun, Chakotay steals one more glance back at the captain, further back in the valley.

She’s lying back on a pile of fluffy white leaf-like fronds, her eyes closed, her face smooth and soft, as relaxed as he’s ever seen her. She might be asleep; he’s too far away to tell for sure, although he only doubts it based on how much coffee he’s seen her drinking today.

When she’d agreed to join the away team, he’d bitten back the sigh of relief. He’d anticipated something along the lines of _I really have so many reports to finish_ or _I’ll see if I can spare the time_.

But sure enough, as soon as they’d beamed down and felt the warmth of sunlight and the cool sweep of the breeze, the captain had taken a deep breath, and he could swear he’d seen her shoulders sink back, tension flowing out of her like water.

He was even more heartened when she’d started picking her way through the valley on her own, leaving him and Tuvok leading their respective groups, Neelix guiding the collection of edible plants. So despite making sure she stayed in visual distance, he’d instinctively shepherded his group in the other direction to give her a few moments of solitude. She works so hard; she deserves some time to just lie still and rest and not be in charge for once.

She smiles, cushioned there in the soft thick leaves, and he feels the all-too-familiar tugging in his chest.

He’s never pretended - at least, to himself - that he doesn’t find her attractive.

It’s a simple, honest observation that he made early on in their working partnership, and he has no problem with it. She’s no less intelligent or capable just because she’s pretty and petite and has those sparkling eyes and that infectious smile, and he’s perfectly content to work with her. He’s an adult, after all. So he tucks it away among other things that don’t stop him from getting his job done.

Sometimes, though, when they have a quiet moment, he catches himself...gazing.

As tempting as it is to find an excuse to join her in the sunlight, he turns back to his group. He’d volunteered to lead them deliberately; she would have done it, and even though it’s still enjoyable, he’d much rather she get some alone time.

* * *

The storm hits them _fast_.

It’s a matter of seconds, he thinks. One moment, he’s watching Ellis and Makari demonstrate their juggling skills with what look like plums, and the next, he feels the sudden stinging crackle of charged air on his skin. It smells wrong, too; there’s something sharper, something acrid in the air now.

He barely has time to turn, and he sees the captain sitting up, looking around, when a bolt of electricity arcs through the air, setting his teeth on edge as the _crack_ whips through him.

“Move, people! This way!”

He calls to the scrabbling ensigns, pointing them towards the captain, who’s already pushing herself onto her feet, tricorder in hand. The winds are picking up, hot and caustic.

He taps his badge. Nothing. Their commbadges are useless right now, unsurprisingly. They need to find shelter.

Tuvok’s group is a ways ahead of them, running, and the captain gestures to Chakotay and his ensigns. They struggle forward, wincing at the sharp pain of the bolts around them. She runs on ahead of the group and Chakotay brings up the rear, watching with growing concern as the sky darkens further, the sickly greenish hue all around as the air sizzles.

After a few agonizing bolts that throw them all to the ground in pain, they finally, _finally_ stumble into the welcome shelter of a cave. The air is cooler, damp, and breathing it in, it’s sweet and clean like water in his lungs. The crew members

Chakotay gives himself a few seconds to catch his breath, and he turns back into leadership mode, surveying the crew. Neelix is already checking for injuries. Singed uniforms, frazzled nerves, and everyone’s coughing.

He counts his group.

His stomach drops.

He counts again.

“What is it?” He turns to find the captain watching him. She seems to know before he says it. “Who isn’t with us?”

“Jerron.”

She follows him to the edge of the cave, and sure enough, they can both see the young ensign on the ground out among the brush in the valley. He’s moving slowly; he looks dazed. He needs help.

Janeway, ever determined, makes a move like she’s trying to run out there. Chakotay doesn’t really _mean_ to grab her arm so bluntly; it’s sheer instinct, because she’s just so _stubborn_.

“I’ll get him,” Chakotay begins, but before he can brace himself to duck back out into the storm, the captain pulls away from his arm.

“Commander, you’re to stay with your team. Tuvok, too. That’s an order.”

She’s out the entrance of the cave before he can call for Tuvok to come explain why this is a bad idea.

Chakotay grits his teeth, watching her race across the darkened landscape. Tuvok, satisfied that the group inside the cave is safe, comes to join him. “This is an ill-advised course of action for the captain.”

“Believe me, I tried to stop her.”

“As would I,” Tuvok says. “And she would have ignored me, as well.”

The two of them watch helplessly as the captain helps Jerron to his feet, and the two of them struggle across the rocky terrain. The wind scours them; it tugs at their clothes, whipping strands of the captain’s hair loose around her face.

For a moment he thinks they’re going to be fine; they’re struggling along, slow but steady. But then Jerron stumbles to the ground; as the air crackles, igniting again, he sees the captain throwing her petite frame over Jerron’s body in a futile attempt to shield him as the plasma surges around them.

“Commander.”

Tuvok, beside him, is squaring his shoulders, and Chakotay simply nods, takes a deep breath, and the two of them run out into the storm.

The air is bitter, caustic, sharp in his lungs like needles. He keeps low to the ground, gritting his teeth as the snap of electrical charges sting his skin, and the roar of the wind is deafening.

Tuvok reaches Jerron first, and he pulls the young Bajoran’s arm over his own shoulders, helping him to his feet. Chakotay waves him on - _go back, I’ll be right behind you_ \- and turns his attention to the captain.

The captain is crumpled on the ground at his feet; her eyes are closed, and he can see she’s not conscious. But at least she’s breathing, her eyelids pulsing.

He pulls her carefully into his arms, cradling her limp form against his chest, and heads back for the safety of the cave, head down, his larger body wrapped around her as well as he can manage.

When he gets back to the cave, just seconds behind Tuvok, Chakotay lets out a scratchy, shaky breath that turns into a cough. It’s all right. He can still feel her breathing against him.

Despite her larger-than-life persona, she’s small in his arms, lighter than he’d realized, and it’s worrisome. He never would have thought of her as _fragile_. But with her eyes still closed, dirt on her face, the edges of her uniform singed from plasma bolts, he can feel her body trembling against his like a bird.

He lays her gently on the floor of the cave. “Give her space,” he says to the anxious, wide-eyed ensigns crowded around them. “Just let her catch her breath.”

Sure enough, her eyes flutter open and she takes a shuddery breath, and even as he coughs, trying to clear his lungs, Chakotay feels the tension inside him dissolve just a bit.

Kathryn Janeway is going to be the death of him.

* * *

The storm passes quickly.

By the time they re-establish communication with the ship, Tuvok and Chakotay have decided that the shakiest personnel should go back to _Voyager_ , and those who weren’t hit as badly by the storm can stay to finish gathering foodstuffs, so long as they keep a sharp eye for further plasma storms and stay near shelter.Tuvok and Neelix gather the crew members who are staying, and Chakotay agrees to take the rest of them back to the ship.

The captain’s sitting back against the cave wall. She’s still looking pale and shaky, but of course she starts trying to push herself up to stand without waiting for help, despite unsteady legs. She took at least one direct hit, and she’s breathing better but she still coughs from time to time.

Normally, Chakotay would step back, hover, wait until she concedes that she could use a hand. But he already ran into a plasma storm today. He’s feeling a little less patient than usual.

So instead, he takes a step forward. “Captain? May I?”

She reaches for his arm, but instead of letting her do it her way, he makes his own command decision: he scoops her up in his arms again, holding her against his chest.

She tenses up in surprise - she obviously wasn’t expecting this, but after a moment’s confusion, she relaxes against him. “A little presumptuous, Commander?”

She sounds amused, more than anything, so hopefully this isn’t going to land him in the brig. “With all due respect, Captain, you took quite a hit and I just don’t want -”

“Oh, it’s all right.” She sighs. “Can I convince you to carry me around the ship on a regular basis, then?”

 _Yes_ , he thinks.

“Don’t bet on it,” he says aloud, and it makes her laugh.

* * *

In Sickbay, Chakotay sets her gently on a biobed, biting back any smugness he might feel as the Doctor launches into a stern lecture about the importance of starship captains refraining from _reckless activities_ on M-class planets as the captain tries in vain to get a word in edgewise.

* * *

Once he has the final amounts of everything loaded into the cargo bays, he tallies up the final info and takes it into the captain’s ready room.

The door chime sounds, and at her _Come in_ , Chakotay enters to find her on her couch, coffee in hand.

“Commander?”

“Reports on our intake.” He hands her the padd. “Neelix is delighted with our updated stock, hydroponics is replenished too. We’re up to our elbows in fresh produce.”

“Glad to hear it.” She scans the padd and sets it down, looks at him with keen eyes, and lets out a long breath. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Out with it, Commander. Tell me how irresponsible it was.” She sets down her cup. “The Doctor already had his turn. I got quite an earful.”

“You want me to scold you?”

“Don’t you want to?”

He decides to chance taking a seat on the armchair beside her. He’s quite a bit taller than her, despite her heels, and he hates the thought of using that to his advantage when he’s trying to make an actual point.

(Not that he actually intimidates her, he knows.)

But he’d rather talk on her physical level anyway. Kathryn Janeway responds to directness, not words from above.

“You know how I feel about you putting yourself in danger.”

She sets her cup down and leans back against the couch cushion, propping her chin up on one hand, looking notably non-penitent. “He needed help.”

“That’s not the point, Captain.”

“Then what is the point?”

“You should have let me or Tuvok go after him.”

“What would that have helped?”

“You wouldn’t have been in danger.”

“But you would have.”

He really needs to start preparing for these kinds of discussions. “With all due respect, Captain, I’m taller than you. I have more developed musculature. True, we were all vulnerable to the plasma storm. But I stood a better chance of getting through than you did.”

( _I_ did _get through_ is what he wants to say, but he’s not stupid.)

“Oh, so you think I’m too delicate to help anyone?” She arches an eyebrow. He knows she’s teasing him, but he answers honestly anyway.

“You’re far from delicate, Captain.”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, leaning back against the couch, her eyes sparkling. “I’d say my first officer is calling me some helpless damsel in distress.”

“You may technically be a damsel, but you’re hardly in distress.”

That earns him a real smile, the bright, winsome one he’s come to love, and _spirits_ , how is it he comes in here meaning to chide her for a reckless decision but he feels like she’s winning the conversation anyway?

And why doesn’t it bother him?

Chakotay decides he may as well just go for broke, since she’s got the upper hand anyway.

He has one dirty trick: earnestness.

So he leans forward, touches her arm very gently. “Captain, in all seriousness, can I at least ask you to make sure you’re communicating with us when you’re facing a risky decision?”

He holds her gaze, warm and frank, and sure enough, he sees her face break. “Don’t you dare look at me like that, Commander.”

“Like what, Captain?”

“All _right_.” She sighs. “I promise I will give you ample warning next time I throw myself into a plasma storm. Are you _happy?”_

“You’ve said it yourself,” he tells her. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”

“This is emotional blackmail and I won’t stand for it,” she informs him, but she’s still smiling. “Now let’s go, we’ve got a ship to run.”

“Aye, captain.”

Well. That worked better than he had expected.

He follows her onto the bridge, settling in his chair beside hers, and they watch the planet, serene and lovely on the viewscreen.

“It looks so calm,” he remarks.

“It really does,” she agrees. “You know, I was thinking. Mr. Neelix says this planet has no name.” She fixes him with a look. “Any ideas? What do you think we should call it, Commander?”

He’s feeling a little impudent today.

“Let’s call it ‘Sizzle.’”


End file.
